Snarky in the Suburbs: A grocery goodbye can make a grown man cry

My husband got some sad news last week and I was the one that had to deliver the blow. It was the kind of information that was best to share in private because I wasn’t sure how he would react. I waited until he got home from work and then I solemnly told him I needed to talk to him in the cone of silence. That’s all he had to hear to know his world was about to change.

The cone of silence is where we have our “for adult ears only” discussions. We can’t talk about any serious matters in our home because although our kids are deaf when it comes to phrases like “dinner’s ready” or “you need to get yourself downstairs and unload the dishwasher” they have sonar that would put a dolphin to shame concerning eavesdropping.

I grabbed my husband’s hand and led him out to the cone, which in a tour-de-force of multi-tasking, is my car. Once we got in, I didn’t try to sugarcoat it or do one of those “but think about all the other things you have to be grateful for.” I just went for it like an inexperienced esthetician yanking off a hot strip of wax that had somehow migrated from the upper lip into deep nostril territory and the only way to get that bad boy off is to pull hard and never look back.

I blurted out, after a couple of deep breaths, that the Hen House on 119th Street is closing down on Christmas Day and won’t be open for at least three months due to extensive remodeling.

My husband took the news like a champ. He remained stoic, but I could tell he was crumbling inside. His eyes looked moist and he flinched when I said, “at least three months.”

I knew what he must be thinking “First they came for the State Line Hy-Vee and I did not speak out. Then they came for my Hen House and I had a nervous breakdown.” Alright, maybe he wasn’t thinking that exactly, but I’m sure I’m in the general vicinity of his thought process.

When I thought he was doing OK I handed him the letter that had come in the mail detailing the closing. He read it with shaky hands and after I gave him a hug I told him I was going to exit the cone and give him some space to absorb the news.

My poor, brave, husband was losing, for a while at least, one of his BFF’s. The man loves his Hen House. If he’s late getting home for work or we can’t find him, the kids and I just assume he’s hanging out at the 119th Street Hen House. Some men like golf, others bars or cigars, my guy enjoys a robust produce aisle, a thinly sliced deli sharp cheddar cheese and getting points on his Hen House card. (Say hello to a free baguette.)

When he finally came back inside the house I attempted to cheer him up with all the good news about the remodel. “Think about this sweetheart, maybe they’ll add more bathrooms.”

The lack of bathroom availability had always been his one gripe about the grocery store. In the five plus years we’ve lived Hen House-adjacent, I’ve never once experienced the restroom unoccupied. Twice, I’ve had to abandon my cart by the bagels and do a bladder-buster sprint over to the Cactus Grill restaurant to use their ladies room.

Sensing that perhaps he was warming to the idea of a new and improved grocery store, I quickly added, “and think about how this closure could give people the chance to finally figure out the proper way to drive in the Hen House parking lot area. The Leawood police could even conduct a clinic to teach residents how that ‘not quite a four-way stop’ works.”

It’s like Russian Roulette over there. Do you go? Do you stop? Do you go and cross your fingers that the person who is stopped won’t realize they have the right of way and then gun their car to make up for lost time? On a scale of accidents waiting to happen it’s worse than Town Center and not quite as bad as the four-way stop at Blue Valley North High School at 7:40 in the morning. (You just go through that one while reciting the Lord’s Prayer and clutching a rosary.)

I thought the parking lot clinic would really lift his spirit, but he still seemed sad. So, I suggested that on Christmas Eve the whole family would go to the Hen House together and do one more walk down those aisles before saying goodbye. That suggestion earned me a smile. So, while a lot of you will be at a Christmas Eve service, the Kuehl family will be at a grocery store.

This story was originally published December 22, 2015 at 9:23 AM with the headline "Snarky in the Suburbs: A grocery goodbye can make a grown man cry."